ODE TO SLEEP

「008. ease up」

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I DON'T remember anything.

That was the shittiest part of being, well, me. You don't remember anything. Everything is always fuzzy, and when you try and think back, your head starts splitting apart and you're just left in pain and confusion.

When I raised my arm, I felt cords move alone with me, and a slight pinch on the inside of my elbow. I lifted my head, looking down to see an IV in my arm, and cords connected to my chest and my arms. There were bandages spiraling up both of my arms, and I felt them against my chest as I sat up. The blanket pooled around my waist, and I immediately felt dizzy.

"Easy there, soldier."

I turned my head to the side. Maddox was sitting in a chair, his legs stretched out and extended under my bed. He sat up straight, uncrossing his arms from over his chest. He didn't say anything for a moment; he just stared at me.

"You don't remember anything, do you?"

I hated when he asked me that. Something bad always happened when he asked me that. No one ever asked me that unless I did something bad.

I felt my heart sink into my stomach. I felt like I was going to throw up. I held onto the blankets, swallowing the lump in my throat. I slowly shook my head.

"I-I...I killed him, didn't I?"

My voice sounded hoarse, grainy, rough—like I'd either been coughing or I was losing my voice. It made it scratchy. I hated the feeling.

"Not quite," Maddox sat back in his chair. "But you were close."

He crossed his legs. He was about to tell me something I was going to wish he never did. I felt anxious.

A beeping came from one of the machines behind me. Maddox flicked his gaze to the screen.

"Breathe, Isaiah. Your oxygen levels are dropping."

I exhaled shakily and drew in an even shakier breath. "What did I do?"

"You beat Marshall half to death. Stabbed Alejandro in the shoulder. Sliced open Valerie's arm. Broke Marcus' wrist and three of his fingers. And then you tried to kill yourself. Again."

I touched the bandages on my arms. The dull stinging made sense now.

"Marshall will be hospitalized for a long time. Broken femur bone, dislocation of both of his shoulders, six broken ribs, seven broken fingers, a cracked collarbone, and a snapped forearm. Not to mention the bruising and swelling of his face. Pretty sure he lost about two or three teeth."

I felt sick. I did all of that, and I didn't fucking remember it? How? How could I not remember beating someone to fucking death?

"You got a few broken ribs from Marshall fighting back," Maddox continued. "Some bruising on your face and body, but nothing too serious. When we finally got you off him...you tried to slash your throat. When we stopped you from doing that, you started to cut open your arms. When that didn't work, you stabbed yourself in the stomach."

"You should have let me die," I whispered. "I deserve it."

"No one deserves to die, Isaiah," He said.

"I beat him to fucking death and I don't remember it!" I shouted. "How many people is gonna take for me to kill for you to do it?!"

"You're not a dog who's getting put down because they bit someone," He frowned.

"I've killed seventy people," I whispered. "And do you want to know how many I remember? Four. Four out of seventy. Doesn't that tell you something?"

"I'm not going to kill you—nobody is," He replied. "And I won't let you kill yourself."

"I can't do this," I could feel my eyes stinging. "I can't keep doing this. I can't keep hurting people and not even remembering it! I-I can't—"

Maddox stood up from the chair. He put his hand on my face when I hung my head, my body trembling. A sob broke over my lips, and Maddox sunk to the edge of the bed. He grabbed my face with both of his hands, lifting it up.

"Isaiah, this isn't something you can help," He said gently. "You can't blame yourself for this when it isn't your fault."

"Ye-Yes it is!" I hiccupped. "I'm the one who h-hurt them!"

"You're sick," He brushed his thumb under my eye. "That's all, Isaiah. You're sick, and there's no cure."

He led my head onto his shoulder. My hands remained on my lap as I cried, hiding my face in Maddox's jacket. I tensed up when I heard the door open. The machine started beeping again after a minute.

"Isaiah,"

I exhaled with another choked-out sob. He only pulled me closer.

"I was going to ask how he was doing, but..."

"Give him time," Maddox said. "And he'll be fine."

I was administered narcotics as pain relievers, and some type of drug that made me feel like I was floating on air. Maddox told me it would help keep me calm and relaxed because he 'knew how much I hated hospitals'. He came and went, telling me that he was going to check up on the others, and would be back soon.

I hardly registered the small knock on the door. I was only aware of another presence when I saw her standing in front of my bed. She brushed some hair away from her face, tucking it behind her ear. She was wearing a hoodie that was bigger on her, and I figured it belonged to her brother.

Emerson tucked her arms over her chest. Not in a dominant way, but more like she was hugging herself. It looked like she'd been crying. She flicked her gaze over me, before meeting my eyes.

"You could have killed Marshall," She said quietly. "But you stopped. Why? Why didn't you finish him off?"

My mouth felt like it was full of cotton. "I don't know. I don't remember."

"How can you not remember that?" Her voice broke a bit. "The fucking floor turned into a blood bath. I-It was everywhere. How?"

"I don't remember anything," I said, laying my head back on the pillow. "I can't remember anything. I try, and I try, and Ity but nothing ever fucking happens. Do you know what that feels like? I don't even know my real fucking name!"

A loud beeping sounded from the machine beside me. I saw Emerson lift her head, her eyebrows furrowing together.

"Isaiah—"

"I don't want to hurt anyone," I whimpered. "I didn't mean to hurt Marshall. I swear to God. I never wanted to hurt him. He does."

"Isaiah, calm down—"

It was getting harder to breathe. Every breath I took hurt. My chest was stuttering, and my eyes were stinging.

"What's going on? Isaiah?"

The door opened and Maddox rushed in. I could see him come to the side of my bed, his hand reaching for my face. He pushed my hair away from my face.

"Isaiah, calm down," He soothed.

"I didn't mean it," I sobbed. "I s-swear."

"It wasn't your fault, Isaiah," Valerie said, coming to the other side of my bed. "You gotta breathe, buddy."

"W-What's going on?" Emerson asked. "Is he having a panic attack?"

"Yeah," I heard Marcus reply.

Maddox grabbed the mask hanging beside my bed. He placed it over my mouth and nose, twisting a valve on the canister hidden behind the IV stand. I felt my eyebrows furrow together at the weird smell, then my eyes widened when I realized what it was.

"Calm down," Maddox said, pinning my shoulders to the bed. I was too groggy to fight back. "You need to ease up, Isaiah."

I felt my eyes narrow in a glare. My vision started to blur, whether it was from tears or from the anesthetic, I didn't know. Soon after, I felt lightheaded, and then everything went black.

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